Or Nothing
by ohdeariemegoodness
Summary: Near is such a baby. He wanted it, Mello knows he did. One-shot.


**WARNING: non-con**

"…the whole field is a

white desire, empty, a single stem,

a cluster, flower by flower,

a pious wish to whiteness gone over—

or nothing."

—William Carlos Williams, "Queen Anne's Lace"

**.**

**Or Nothing**

* * *

Mello bites viciously into his chocolate, enjoying the snapping sound it makes as his teeth close around it. He's been freezing his chocolate to make it hard and sharp and he rather likes the image it gives him. Tough and I-don't-give-a-fuck, he thinks. But Mello does give a fuck. He gives a lot of fucks, actually, and right now he is giving one about Near being in his fucking bedroom.

Near is an emotionless little freak, and his only redeeming quality is that he's weak and helpless and Mello can beat up on him whenever he feels like it, which is most of the time. Still, it feels pretty shit to beat up someone who's too weak to fight back, so Mello usually doesn't. Unless he deserves it.

Anyway, Near is really annoying, and lately he's been even more annoying than usual, following Mello around everywhere all the time. He doesn't try to talk to Mello, or even look at him, he just follows him around and ignores him and plays with his fucking toys. It's infuriating in a way that Mello can't even begin to articulate.

Now Near has followed Mello into his bedroom, and it is the last straw. He needs to learn a lesson and Mello is going to be his teacher. Whammy's is the school of hard knocks.

"Alright, sheep," Mello announces, slapping Near upside the head. "I'm done with you following me around. Get out before I kick you out. Literally."

Near doesn't respond, doesn't look away from the robots he's arranging—complete with sound effects—and _oh my god _Mello is so done with this right now.

Mello fists his hand in Near's hair and pulls him up from where he's crouched on the ground, legs splayed out in that weird position he's always in. Near makes a high, keening noise as he is forced to make eye contact, neck awkwardly tilted back, but is otherwise unresponsive. He's still clutching his robots in his tiny, pale little hands, fingers soft and delicate against the metal toys, and _what the fuck is Mello thinking. _

White curls slip out of Mello's fingers as he lets go. "Go on!"

But Near is looking up at him with these big, wide eyes, gray and shining, and Mello feels really shitty for a moment before remembering who exactly he's dealing with. He kicks Near in the shin, beacon of maturity and kindness that he is, and pushes him out into the hallway. Near stumbles and falls and Mello sticks out his tongue at him.

"Go be weird somewhere else," he tells him, and he slams the door in his face.

Mello finishes his chocolate, fuming, and then he goes to bed because he doesn't have anything else to do. Usually he'd try to talk Matt into sneaking out or something, but Matt got a new video game and he won't do anything fun until he beats it, because he's a loser. Mello gets fed up with coming in second all the time, and especially to a stupid piece of plastic that's useless and made up. If he breaks it, though, Matt will lose his shit and won't talk to him for weeks, and it's not worth it.

Mello falls asleep fantasizing about broken video games and best friends that don't suck all the time.

He wakes up in the middle of the night to take a piss, and he trips and almost falls over something in front of his door. Still half-asleep, he turns on the light to investigate. Two of Near's robots are still on Mello's floor, apparently engaged in battle.

Sighing, Mello kicks them out of the way and opens his door. When he does, something warm and heavy and small falls onto him and Mello practically jumps out of his skin before realizing that it's a person and that person is Near.

"Near! What the fuck are you doing outside my room!"

Near is just waking up, fists rubbing his eyes as he blinks them open. He yawns, tiny little mouth opening wide to display his pink lips and holy shit, oh fuck, Mello is really attracted to Near.

Okay, okay. It's fine. No he's not. He's a healthy teenage boy and it's totally normal. Nothing to do with Near at all. He must have just been dreaming something interesting before he woke up, that's all.

Crisis averted, Mello goes back to his original goal, which was getting Near to leave him the fuck alone. Why is he out here anyway? He's always a creepy little shit, but camping outside Mello's door is a whole new level of freakish behavior.

Near doesn't speak, doesn't move to explain himself at all. He reaches past Mello and grabs the left-behind robots, pushes himself off the ground, and starts tottering away, arms filled with toys. It's unbelievable to Mello that this wisp of a child is a teenager.

Mello goes to the bathroom, and he can't stop thinking about Near's mouth, his hands, his pale, small body. He rubs himself absentmindedly on the way back to his bedroom, and it occurs to him. Near is socially inept and probably has no understanding of what to do about a crush. But if he's following Mello around like this, sleeping outside of Mello's door at night, well. Maybe that's what it is.

The idea that—that Near might _like _him, might _want _him—is heady and thrilling and powerful, and Mello feels it right down to his bones. In this, finally, _finally, _Mello is the one in control, Mello is the one with experience, the one with the confidence and the know-how. Mello doesn't really want Near, of course, but if he did that would be okay. Since Near wanted him first.

Mello walks past his own room, down the hallway, down the stairs. He turns onto Near's floor. He opens the third door on the left.

Near is inside, surrounded in his bed by an army of toys, one giant robot clutched in his arms. The blinds are pulled up and Near is illuminated by the moonlight outside, caught in a strange silver glow that deepens the shadows around him.

Mello stands in the doorway, staring at the toys, and he is so—he is so—he's so _angry, _livid, furious, even, because how is this, this _child, _this _baby, _ranked first, ranked above Mello, when Mello works so hard, works all the time, and Near doesn't do shit, he just sits around and plays and makes stupid whooshing noises and Mello has had enough, he really has. He storms into the room and shoves Near's toys off the bed and onto the ground.

"What is wrong with you!" It's not quite a shout—he doesn't want to wake everyone up—but he isn't being quiet, certainly, and Near startles awake, if he was even asleep to begin with, looking scared and uncertain and more human than Mello is used to seeing him. The look is gone in an instant, though, replaced with the blank face Near has on so often.

Mello wants to slap that look off his face, so he does, the sting of it tingling in his fingers. "Tell me!"

Near raises an eyebrow at him, not reacting to the slap at all. It's maddening. "Mello is not making sense. Is it not past his bedtime?"

"Shut up!"

Mello can't think. He can't breathe, can't do anything, he's so angry, and he's hard, and Near is _right there _and Mello remembers his earlier revelation about the crush.

"You're the same as me," Mello tells him. "You think you're so much better but you're not."

Near doesn't respond, and Mello doesn't let him. He'll show him.

Mello presses his lips against Near's, presses him against the mattress, climbing on top of him like he's done before, with girls, with Matt, once. It's not the same, though, because Near doesn't respond, doesn't move at all, just tenses up, stiff and motionless.

Mello breaks the kiss. "You have to move your lips, too," he instructs. Near's mouth is slightly open, parted in shock or uncertainty or lust or who-the-fuck-knows, but the rest of his face is still emotionless. Mello hates it, he _hates _it, hates everything about this, hates Near.

He throws himself into the kiss, forcing Near's lips open wider and slipping his tongue inside. Near finally reacts, shaking his head and squirming, and Mello feels a surge of victory at the movement he's forced out of him. He squeaks and Mello pinches him.

"Be quiet. You'll wake someone up."

Near is really unsatisfying to kiss, though, because he doesn't kiss back. Mello is antsy and aroused and he ruts slowly against Near's thigh, trying to get some relief. It's good to know that Near is useless at _something, _but it kind of sucks right now, when Mello could use a little assistance.

Still, you take what you can get, and this has the added bonus of being something he can hold over Near's head for the rest of their lives.

He feels to see if Near is hard. He is, a little bit, and Mello rubs at him. Near stiffens up even more as Mello works his hand into his pants, still rutting against his thigh, faster now.

"Mello should—Mello should not do that. It is not allowed."

But Near's voice is breathy and stilted and his cheeks are flushed and Mello knows that he wants it, so he goes for it anyway.

"You'll like it," he tells him.

He strokes Near into hardness, one hand wandering to feel Near's thighs, his stomach, his hips. He pushes his shirt up and pulls back a little so he can look at the milky-white skin underneath, completely unblemished. Near is so thin Mello feels like he could snap him in half. He imagines the way bruises might look blooming on his skin and his grip tightens for a moment.

He's moving faster, now, rocking against Near in quick, circular motions. Near's face is turned to the side, nearly hidden in the pillow. Mello realizes he's still holding that stupid robot and he stops what he's doing to wrench it out of Near's hands.

"Near, you little freak, no toys in bed."

Near lets out a soft cry and reaches for the robot, but Mello slaps his hand away and holds him down.

"Stay still!"

He pinches Near again, hard, on the sensitive inner skin of his thigh. Near lets out a high whine.

"Mello, stop," he cries, but Mello ignores him. He doesn't have time for this baby shit. He's going to get blue balls at this rate.

"Shut up," Mello tells him, harshly. He starts to put a hand over his mouth before he has a better idea. That mouth, Mello thinks, would look really nice around Mello's cock, and it has the added bonus of shutting Near up.

Decided, Mello pulls Near off the pillow, until his head is resting flat on the bed. He slips his own pajama pants down enough that he is fully exposed. Near is staring, breathing hard, and Mello knew he wanted this, he knew it.

Near's breath is coming in sharp little gasps and Mello arranges himself over his mouth.

"Say ah," Mello tells him. Near's mouth stays shut, so Mello pinches his fingers into the hollows of his cheeks, forcing it open.

"Just watch your teeth," he advises. "There's nothing to it."

Mello has never actually given anyone a blowjob, but he's gotten one before and it didn't look that hard. The sheep can handle it. If it's any good Mello will return the favor, anyway.

He lowers himself into Near's mouth and he almost loses his balance. It feels so good, hot and wet and soft, and Mello lets out a groan. Near's lips are fantastic and there's not even that much teeth, and holy shit, Mello could come right now.

He eases himself into a rhythm, and as he gets settled, he realizes Near is shaking. Tears are running down Near's face, and the vibrations around Mello's dick are coming from—Near is crying, his eyes all scrunched up and squeezed shut, and Mello feels really shit. He feels really, really shit, and something like guilt burns deep in his stomach because he doesn't stop.

It's too late—he's already started, and it won't be that long, and fuck, fuck, Near's tongue is moving unwillingly against him, and it feels so good—so good—he feels around for Near's prick. He doesn't have the coordination to jerk him off right now, but he does what he can, teasing and feeling and stroking. He doesn't look at Near's face again.

He comes unexpectedly, shooting down Near's throat, and he jerks out of his mouth halfway through, accidentally splattering Near's face and hair. Near coughs and quivers and curls up into himself.

Near looks—he looks really good, like that. His mouth wide open, come all over him, dripping down his cheeks, mingling with his tears, and fuck. Mello feels really bad for a moment—really, horrendously guilty—but it's just Near, it's just the sheep. He doesn't really feel anything anyway. It's fine.

Mello takes his shirt off and Near cries out, arms flailing weakly.

"No! No, Mello, please, no. No more." His voice is choked, panicked, snot running from his nose, and shit, shit, this isn't Mello's fault, Near led him on, he _wanted _it.

Mello shoves the shirt over Near's face, muffling his sobs.

"I'm just cleaning you up," he whispers, and Near stops fighting him but doesn't stop crying.

Once he's done with Near's face, Mello eyes the slight bulge in Near's pants uncertainly. It seems strange that Near even _has _a dick, honestly, and Mello doesn't feel particularly inclined to have cock in his mouth, but it's only fair.

"I'll suck you off, too," Mello tells Near. "To make it even."

He pulls Near's pants down and Near makes a hollow, desperate noise, kicking and squirming all over again.

"Shh, shh, quit fighting," Mello grits out, holding Near still. "You'll like this."

Once he's satisfied that Near will be still, he arranges himself over Near's prick. Near is just as pale and white here as everywhere else, and unsurprisingly small. In another situation Mello would taunt him for it, but right now it's kind of convenient.

He fists Near with one hand until he's completely hard, and then lowers his mouth down on the rest. The sensation is uncomfortable, too full in his mouth, strange tasting and salty.

It doesn't take long for Near to come, and when he does, Mello pulls off immediately, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand as Near finishes across his own stomach.

Mello wipes him down with the shirt and leans in for a kiss.

"That wasn't so bad, see?"

But Near is crying again, his face blotchy and red, eyes puffy, and he's so small, so fucking helpless and weak and his stupid little gasps are sending painful jolts through the pit of Mello's stomach.

He feels—he feels really bad. Near hated it, he didn't want it, and Mello knows, he _knows, _but—it felt—it felt really good. Better than anyone else.

"Near," Mello starts, lowly. "You can't tell anyone about this, okay?"

Near just stares at him. He looks—he looks like he's traumatized, or some shit, and Mello knows he isn't, but it doesn't stop him from feeling awful.

"I mean it," he says. "If you say anything, I'll break all your robots. And they'll know you wanted it."

Near takes in a deep, shaky breath, and Mello feels—

He pulls Near's pants back up from where they were bunched around his knees, dragging the fabric gently over slim legs and bony hips, and he gets Near's robot off the floor. Near accepts the toy like a lifeline, grabbing onto it desperately and burying his face between it and the pillow. One eye peeks out at Mello.

Near's voice is thin and hoarse when he speaks.

"Why did—Why did Mello do that? I thought—" but he cuts off with a little jerk.

Mello swallows, and he thinks to himself, _I should not do this again. _But he will, he will, he can feel it inside of him. Mello has never had very much self-control, if any, even in the things that matter, the parts that count.

"You wanted it," he tells him, and his voice catches on the final syllable.

Near says nothing, small, pale face still hidden.

"You wanted it," Mello repeats, and this time, he can believe it, can feel the truth of it burrowing into him and settling down his spine. The tears were a game, a test, playing hard to get—Near came, he wanted it, he liked it. And it was fair, because Mello returned the favor, even though it was kind of gross. Near didn't even have to ask him to do it.

Mello takes a deep breath and stands up. "Remember what I told you, Near. This is a secret. You can't tell anyone."

He picks up his shirt, and he starts to put Near's toys back on the bed, but he thinks better of it. Mello leaves the room and walks back to his own floor, into the bathroom.

The lighting is harsh and Mello stares at his sallow reflection in the mirror. He feels as if he should look different, changed, somehow, but he doesn't. He's the same Mello he's always been, the same one he woke up as this morning.

Mello goes back to bed and just lays there, staring up at the ceiling until the sun rises. He wonders when Matt will beat his game. He wonders if Linda has ever given head.

He wonders if Near will keep following him around, or if he's learned his lesson. Whammy's is the school of hard knocks and Mello is best teacher of them all.

* * *

**AN: Well, Near is a huge woobie in this. Sorry not sorry. Haha. I hope you enjoyed, even though this was not particularly original! This was written mostly to get helpless baby Near out of my system so I can quit writing him this way, but also to work on my Mello characterization for my long fic. If you're reading _The Hollow Men_, never fear, I am working on the next chapter already. If you're not you should be so go do that.**

**Anyway, let me know what you thought! Also let me know if you want me to write a follow-up chapter, because I'm considering it. If I do it'll be in Near's POV. This is not going to be a full-length story though, as it is very much PWP.  
**

**Finally, I'd like to make a shout-out to Amarissia's "Lie Cold, Consent," which inspired this and is about a million times better. If you liked this you will like hers that much more. She has a frightfully neutral Mello and poor Near is so perfectly characterized. **

**-M.**


End file.
